


About Jon Snow

by ann_and_white_elephant



Series: The Mother of Monarchs [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Catelyn Lives, Children, Crossroads Inn, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 22:23:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20713502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ann_and_white_elephant/pseuds/ann_and_white_elephant
Summary: The last one Catelyn wishes to meet again is the king. Then there is the king’s daughter and the absence of another person which binds them all. (Works as a stand-alone story.)Five children, kings and queens. And one who was no son of hers.  Five + one AUs series.





	About Jon Snow

“Must it be this place?” she asked.

Her captain of guards looked at her startled. Usually Catelyn was not the one to make complains. “My lady, the night will be here soon. And the snow doesn’t look like stopping. The men searched the inn. What could be carried, was stolen. The rest was burned or broken, but the roof and the heart still stand. We will be as safe and warm here as we can get.”

He was right of course. Besides, if she tried to tell him her reasons he wouldn’t understand. No more than a wooden pillar remained of Masha Heddle’s gibbet. Inside, the room barely resembled the one where she had taken Tyrion Lannister captive. Aside of a score of Cat’s own men it was empty. Sole bench stood of its furniture and on the floor an old bloodstain was silently telling its grim story.

The fire was crackling already and from the outside she could hear distant sound of wood being chopped. For that much she was thankful. Days were growing colder. And shorter than even ancient scrolls at Citadel could remember. Only four hours of daylight remained, maester Vyman told her as she was leaving Riverrun. Had he still lived, Brynden Blackfish would have called it a folly, to ride forth in such weather, but part of Ned’s principles remained with her. She would never wield a sword, but she would look to the eyes of those, whom she sentenced to death. The lords of Riverlands had right to pits and gallows on their lands, but the man who had tried to take the food by force in Maidenpool was no commoner. He had been lord’s Bracken’s own nephew. And he had chosen no better target than Lord Blackwood’s steward. Catelyn was the last living child of Hoster Tully, the ruling Lady of Riverrun. It was her duty to see to the matter and she did. _Duty makes for a cold lover, though_.

More than ruling, more than anything she yearned to be with the children which remained to her. Sansa, who tried to do the most of her unfortunate marriage in the Westerlands. Bran, the Lord Stark, a broken boy with old man’s eyes. And Rickon, who had not even recognized her during her only visit in White Harbor. Upon their farewell the boy gave her no more than a silent stare. Cat’s children had become strangers somewhere over the years of war and her imprisonment. The abyss between them was growing deeper every day they spend apart. Yet, she could not go to them, Riverlands were her place now, and her children would not go to her. Bran and Sansa had their own duties. And when she had pleaded and threatened to be allowed to take Rickon south with her the northern lords had just given her stares as cold as winter. In their hearts it was her southern blood and southern lands they blamed for the death of Robb who had been her firstborn and their beloved king.

Queen Daenerys had given her back her ancestors’ lands, but more than once Catelyn wanted to ask if it was a reward or a punishment. She should hurry, if she ever wanted the answer. The queen was fortnight dying, succumbing to her injury in one of the Harrenhal’s monstrous bedchambers. _And what will become of us all when she dies?_

The horses were stabled. The men who did not have to take the watch outside made themselves comfortable around the big heart. Catelyn sought her captain of guards to settle the last matters of tomorrow’s journey.

Ser Marron sighted wishfully at one moment. “And to think that when I was eight I spend a whole moon turn sulking because all my older brothers could remember snow and I couldn’t.” He chuckled. He was not a handsome man, with his thin face and big ears, but he had an amiable manner. 

“You will miss it again once all those pests come from the ground in the spring.” It was told lightly, as a jape, but it did not come out well. The spring had come, after the last cruel winter, then summer and autumn, but they had been very short. In most of the North the ground remained frozen, as did the Giant’s Lance in the Vale. The winter which followed would soon be three years lasting. And the horrible tales from beyond the Wall were growing too numerous to deny. The silence was interrupted only when food and boiled wine was brought.

Scraps of talk came to Cat as she ate. Men sat on old caskets or anything else they could find and spoke of the journey and weather or played dice and enjoyed the shelter. _We might not be able to reach one on the morrow._ Catelyn heard the talk about the queen too and somewhere in the room someone spoke the king’s name quietly. Outside the night came.

The dregs on the bottom of her cup had been long cold, when the door opened. One of the guards Ser Maron had posted at the gate hurried inside accompanied by cold and a whirl of snowflakes. Under the bushy beard the man’s face was cherry red. “Men ahorse coming from the way of Saltpans. At least forty by the count of their torches,” he told them quickly. 

In loud clinger all men at arms were standing and reaching for their weapons. Catelyn tried to think of anyone who would have a reason to assemble such a force. No name came to mind.

“Are they flying any banners?” Ser Maron asked.

“None that we could see.”

“My lady,” her captain of guards turned to her, “maybe you should go upstairs and hide. This might be dangerous.”

“No. This is an inn, not a castle. We don’t have enough men to stand against such numbers for long,” she told him bluntly. “We could only hope they are friends and not foes. Go outside, Ser, and treat with them.”

All those who remained inside watched the door silently. They could not see anything, but horses and distant talk could be heard.

Ser Maron returned and with him three newcomers. Two wore the same sigil, the third had none, but he would have given them away better than anyone. Clad in white head to heals the man wore the best armor gold could buy. After a long regarding look he put down his winged helmet. By it and by swans on his brooch Catelyn recognized him even before he introduced himself. The only Kingsguard pardoned from the Lannister regime.

“Lady Tully, I am Ser Balon Swann. In the name of Queen Daenerys, I request you to allow my men to search this place and to share the shelter, once we deem it safe.”

_Why such caution?_ Catelyn wondered. She understood only when the task was done, and other part of the riding party entered. There were more Targaryen guards, though many must have still stayed outside, another member of the Kingsguard and three women. The second Kingsguard had a child in his arms. The little frame was huddled carefully in the finest furs. The child’s face was turned to knights chest but as anyone Catelyn could tell who it was. The princess. The only offspring of the king and the queen.

As soon as the door closed, a young woman with bronze skin and strange golden eyes came to princess and put her hood down. Catelyn had not been in King’s Landing since the princess had been born, but the lords talked and lords with sons planned. She had heard of princess’ looks more than once. True to the words the girl shared the silvery hair of her mother. Though her braids looked if half of hair was trying to escape them and half had managed so already. The sight was achingly familiar as was the long face. And the name. Catelyn had never needed to ask which of her parents named the girl.

“Princess Arya, we arrived, you can wake up,” spoke the golden-eyed woman. Her voice was warm, but firm. She seemed to master the tongue of her new lands well. There was barely any trace of an accent coloring her words.

The princess kept her eyes closed. Catelyn as a mother of five, knew well she was not truly sleeping.

“Is mother here? I won’t wake up till we come to mother.” The girl answered, stubbornly keeping her eyes closed.

“No, princess, we are not at Harrenhal yet. We are in an inn, but there are other people. Don’t you want to see them?” Answered the Kingsguard who held her. He still had his helmet on, but by a tree brooch Catelyn knew Ser Edmund Blackwood, Lord Tytos’ son.

Quick as any young hare the girl turned and looked at her. Catelyn had heard, of course… but seeing the Stark grey of the girl’s eyes after so many years still took her breath away.

“Who are you? I like your hair,” the child spoke.

Catelyn curtsied. “Thank you, princess, I am Lady Catelyn Tully of Riverrun. You have lovely hair too.”

The girl frowned and tugged at one of her braids none too gently. “I have to wear braids. I hate braids, they itch!” But then she smiled. She had not yet reached her fifth nameday and still had all her baby teeth. “I like my eyes. I have eyes like father.”

Catelyn’s own smile soured. She wondered what Jon Snow would think, if he knew she was talking to his daughter just now. They had not met since he was a boy of fourteen, and Catelyn would gladly avoid him for the rest of her life. It had not been difficult so far. It was said that to see the king south of the Wall was as likely as to find a pearl in one’s porridge. The queen ruled in the south, the king fought his war in the north. _But what will happen once the queen dies? _

The men and women of princess’ escort settled themselves quickly and the room filled with new noises and smells. Fresh fish and smoked sausage, lentil and boiled eggs, bread and honey. It would not have been an opulent feast in autumn but even many lords and ladies of Riverlands might not have seen some of those dishes in months. Common folk ate even worse. Catelyn’s own men did not hunger, but most of what they ate last days was horse meat, thin beacon and oak cakes. There was more than one envying look.

Those who were not too soured by the desires of their stomach soon mingled with the newcomers to heed the word from King’s Landing or just drink and jape. The oldest of the women with broad face and grey in her hair brought out a book and began to lecture the princess upon the names and habits of different beast found in the Seven Kingdoms.

The child seemed interested enough, though the tuition was somehow slowed by a myriad of questions. _Can lizard lions grow big like dragons? Do boars eat people? Then why do they have so big teeth? Is lion bigger than wolf? And direwolf? Is elk quicker that direwolf? Is direwolf stronger than bear? Can direwolf eat hedgehog? _Direwolf, it seemed, was the girl’s favorite beast.

In the corner of the room Ser Balon and other of the women stood talking. This woman was young too. Clad in ring mail and leather as a man she spotted a bear on her surcoat. O_ne of Lady Maege’s daughters_, Cat thought. She was as tall as her sister Dacey had been.

“Ser, my lady, is there any word on how the queen is faring?” Catelyn asked. “I was away from the Riverrun when the tidings reached me. I instructed my castellan to send forth part of the garrison with provisions and any other help that might be required, but few ravens and fewer travelers are wandering these days. I have yet to hear his answer.”

“It is not our place to speak of that, my lady.” The Kingsguard answered. “But as you might have gathered, we are riding for Harrenhal.”

“The queen wishes to see her daughter,” Catelyn added. _Before she dies_. It had been an arrow to the shoulder. They took the arrow out, but the wound had infested under the stitches. On _that_ the message was clear. They had not learned who shot the arrow. Whoever it had been, snow was now covering his cold ashes.

“The queen wishes her child safe.” Maege Mormont’s daughter declared firmly. “She would not have her traveling in this weather if the sickness didn’t spread in King’s Landing. Now Harrenhal seem as good a place as any.”

“A sickness? No… not the greyscale?” Catelyn asked with terror in her voice. The spread had never reached this far north, but all had heard about horrors in Stormlands.

“Greyscale?! No, gods be good.” Ser Balon seemed shaken by the thought. “Just some sickness of lugs, but it falls heavy on children.”

_Is there any word of what king will do? _Cat might have asked next, but the question would not leave her mouth. She did not wish to speak about him. Instead she told them of the last feud between Blackwoods and Brackens and how many times the port at Saltpans had frozen in the last month. They told her of the new Hand and storms in Blackwater Bay.

It was not much later, when Catelyn’s eyes travelled to a corner of the room to meet the princess’ gaze. The girl had somehow managed to escape all her tutors and guards. She was kneeling on the floor and drawing with a piece of stray coal. Her dress, which had been pale blue, now displayed all shades of grey and black. It was a simple dress for the daughter of the queen, Catelyn had many finer made for Sansa, when she had been the princess’ age. But if this girl was like any of Cat’s daughters, it was the princess’ namesake without a doubt. Catelyn tried to remember when she had thought of Arya, her Arya, that much the last time. She yearned for Sansa, Bran and Rickon all day long, and saw Robb dying every night in nightmares but Arya… she never even learned what became of Arya. 

Catelyn came to the princess and bend to observe her work. With some disquiet she noted that it was not just the floor the girl was drawing on, but the old blood stain. _She can’t know what a grim sight this is_. Unbothered by its violent past, the child was adding a leg here and teeth there to the dark shape creating some beast. The beast’s head resembled crabapple with eyes, it has teeth bigger than ears and its legs were all different length and width, but Cat still dared to guess. “Is it a wolf, my princess?”

The girl looked up from her work and gave her a wide smile. “A direwolf. It should be white, but I don’t have white coal.”

“Have you ever seen a direwolf?” Catelyn inquired.

“Yes. My father has a direwolf. He took me to see him on his dragon. He is called Ghost, he is big and white and has red eyes.”

“There are grey direwolves too. And black,” Catelyn told the girl. Of the pups her children had brought home so long ago only Shaggydog and Summer still lived. Shaggy was an angry beast as black as ink, but Summers’ coat was grey. Sometimes, when she was falling asleep in her cold bed at Riverrun, in that short moment between sleep and wakefulness it almost seemed as if Catelyn could recognize Nymeria’s voice too in the distant howl of the pack.

A frown appeared at the princess’ young face. “My father had a cousin once, Arya. She was not me. She was called like me and she had a grey direwolf. A she-wolf. Did you know her?” The girl asked innocently.

_The child is too young. No one had taught her yet what a tangled web of alliances, enmities and old wounds her mother’s kingdom is_. “Do you have a septa to give you lessons, my princess? Or a maester?” Catelyn asked, instead of answering.

“I hate septas! They are stupid and stink. Maester Sam is nice. He teaches me numbers, but he is too fat to ride with us.”

“Did Maester Sam teach you the parts of the kingdoms and who rules them?”

“He did! Martells rule Dorne. They eat snakes. Tyrells rule Reach. I don’t know what they eat. Lannisters rule Westerlands. My father’s cousin Sansa is a Lannister too. Bran Stark rules North. He is my father’s cousin too. My mother’s _stewguards_ rule Vale, Stormlands and Iron Islands.”

“And where are we now?”

“Riverlands! Tullys rule Riverlands.” Princess‘ eyes widened. “That is you!”

“Yes, I am Lady Tully. And Lady Sansa is my daughter. Lord Brandon is my son.”

“But you are not called the same and you don’t live in the same castle.” The princess looked confused.

“Does your father live in the same castle?” Catelyn asked quietly. She did not know where the question came from. She was the last one to speak about the king, and she knew, she was trespassing.

“No. He fights monsters in the north. He comes to see me sometimes.”

“See, but he is still your father.”

“Do Sansa and Bran have hair like you? I never met them.” The princess wanted to know.

“Yes, their hair is the same color.”

The girl nodded then she bit her lip. “But you are not the mother of the other cousin, Arya, the other Arya, not me.”

“I am.”

“You are not! You do not have the same hair! Father told me. She had hair like him and eyes like me and a direwolf.”

Catelyn did not know if she should cry or laugh. “Why should I have the same hair?” she asked bewildered.

“I have the same hair as my mother.” The princes began. “Irri’s son has the same hair as Irri and Jhiqui’s daughter has hair like Jhiqui. And Uncle Brandon and Aunt Sansa has the same hair as you.” The girl crossed her arms.

Catelyn never got the chance to win that argument, in that moment the grey-haired woman noticed them. “Princes Arya, this is the third ruined dress today! What would your mother think if she could see you now?” The woman took the girl from the ground swiftly. “Fire was lied in the room on the floor, it’s time for you to clean and go to bed.” Despite the child’s fierce protests, they disappeared upstairs. Catelyn looked the way they had gone. She wondered what would become of the princess. _She was unfortunate to be born a girl. And us with her._

Not so long after the princess departed even the grown men started to look for a place to rest. The talk quieted. Cat had a bed made for her in the common room. Upstairs only one bedchamber with heart still whole remained and princess’ escort claimed it for their own.

Catelyn’s rest did not come easily, as had been the way for a long while. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see Robb lying on the floor at Twins, his life blood leaving him. Tonight, there was another ghost too. This one had grey eyes, long face and impish smile of a young girl. Thousand times Catelyn tried to reach her, thousand times the girl disappeared. Every time Cat woke abruptly, only to find out that it was not her daughter who came to shake her from a nightmare, but only old hinges, or word said too loud. It must have been past the hour of eel when the true sleep finally claimed her.

It was the sudden silence which woke her. Catelyn turned her head and the sleepiness left her at once when she sensed the tension in the room. Rivermen and Kingslanders both were reaching for their weapons. All were watching a man in a black hood who stood by the door.

Snow still lingered at the stranger’s head and shoulders and cold cling to him. The man put the hood shadowing his face down and the princess escort knelt as one man. Catelyn’s own men followed. None of the rivermen had ever seen his face, Catelyn was sure, and he wore no crown, yet they understood. The king had arrived.

Jon Snow looked around the room. Catelyn thought she noticed a slight frown when his eyes met hers, but he did not acknowledge her in any other way. He had changed, as she did. It was almost a decade since they had seen each other. He was taller and had a fuller frame as befit a man instead of a boy. His hair was longer and there was a shadow of a bread on his face and new scars around his right eye. There was a coldness to him too, almost as if the Wall had frozen him to the marrow of his bones. _No one ever leaves the Watch for true. Least of all him._

“Where is the princess?” Were his first words to Ser Edmund.

“Upstairs, sleeping. Ser Balon and her companions are with her.” Catelyn could feel a trace of nervousness in the Kingsguard’s voice.

Without another word, the king left to see his daughter.

The sudden relief on the young Kingsguard’s face was easy to read. _Kingsguard they call them, but Queensguard is what they are in truth._ The king was a stranger to the queen’s men. None seemed too comfortable around him.

Before any of them could break the silence, Ser Balon and the women came from upstairs. Edmund Blackwood hurried to the older knight and began to speak quietly. Catelyn could not hear their words, but she saw Balon Swann shook his head. And just as that, like a spell, a hushed talk broke in the room.

“My lady, do you think the king’s dragon is nearby?” Ser Maron came to her.

“I don’t know.” The larger beast was at Harrenhal. Catelyn had worried more than once what trouble the dragon could cause in Riverlands when the queen was too ill to control him. But so far, from all she heard, the beast did not leave the queens side once. The king’s dragon was said to be up north. _But the same was said of the king._ “Go to the stables and see what you can learn. Maybe the king brought some companions with him, or maybe there is a new horse. Ask the queens men, but don’t pry too hard.”

Cat watched her captain of guards close the door before her gaze returned the two Kingsguards. The two younger women joined them. The Mormont girl was too absorbed in the talk, but the other woman noticed Catelyn’s look. 

“Lady Tully, we were not introduced before, but we had met some years ago when you came to King’s Landing. I am Missandei.”

_Aye, I came. To bend my knee and swear my fealty. _Catelyn did not have regrets of that. King Aerys had killed Brandon Stark before she could have married him, she would never forget that, but Daenerys had not been even born then. As for the crown Cat’s oldest son once had worn, Catelyn was rather that the rest of her children were alive than kings and queens. And at least her oath had been to Daenerys Targaryen, not _him._

“Are you the queen’s companion?” Catelyn could only guess if they had truly met before. Missandei’s golden eyes would be hard to forget, but there had been many strange men and women from Essos around the queen. If Catelyn had seen the woman from afar, she would not have stood up.

“I am. And the princess’ companion as well now. I’ve been with the queen for many years. I come from Naath but I’ve been a slave in Astapor before the queen came to the city.” There was a fierce loyalty in Missandei’s voice.

“Do you know the king well too?” Catelyn could no longer ignore the man. Not when he was just few rooms away. His presence weighed heavily on her mind. Not for a moment she could forget that she would have to face him again soon.

“No,” Missandei looked at her strangely. “You would know him better than I.”

Not wishing to speak about king’s youth at Winterfell Catelyn found herself asking the other woman about Naath. To Cat’s surprise the girl turned out to be a gifted storyteller. She made the faraway lands seem so vivid that one could almost imagine himself standing in a deep green forest surrounded by butterflies. It made even Catelyn forget her worries for a moment.

Yet, it was Cat who noticed as the first when the king returned to the room. _He walks as quietly as his wolf. _Back at Winterfell the white pup sought Catelyn’s presence no more that his owner, but as many times as she had glimpsed Ghost, she had never heard him approach. Often, she couldn’t even tell where the beast came from. Some of the wolf’s nature become his master’s too, it seemed.

For all no one noticed the king coming, once they saw him, his presence made the talk die away. Had they lived different lives, Catelyn might have even described him as handsome, but there was deep solemnness about him, not even her Ned ever possessed. Dressed all in black he made for a grave sight. In contrast to his dark hair and darker clothes was the little princess nested in his arms. The girl’s sleeping gown was white and her silvery hair, for once free of braids, seemed just as light against her father’s black doublet. This time the child appeared asleep for true. As the king walked more into the light of the heart and oil lamps, Catelyn saw tears drying on girl’s cheeks.

“I’m coming from Harrenhal,” Jon Snow told Ser Balon. His voice was quiet not to disturb the child, yet in the silence of the room all could hear him. And likely, all were meant to. His next words could not remain a secret. “The queen is dead.”

Missandei sobbed, someone else gasped and Ser Balon seemed lost for words. “Should we change our plans, Your Grace?” The Kingsguard asked finally.

“Not yet. Stay at Harrenhal for some days. I will take Princess Arya back to King’s Landing myself. She must attend her mother’s funeral.” The king turned about to return to princess’ sleeping chamber when the child stirred.

“I’m cold,” she spoke faintly, still half asleep. Jon Snow halted and headed to the heart. He kissed the crow of his daughter’s head and began to trace smoothing circles on her back. There were ugly burn marks marring his right hand.

The men in the room stared uncomfortably. No one was meant to witness the scene, Catelyn felt, but in that moment, it appeared that the king had no mind for anyone but his daughter. They could only watch him, and no one dared as much as breathe too loudly.

When the king finally looked up after a long while, of all the people in the inn’s hall it was Cat’s face he sought as first. “Missandei, take the princess back to her room,” he called the Naathi woman and handled her the child with the unmost care. “Lady Catelyn, follow me.” Despite the gentleness she had just witnessed there was little warmth in his voice now.

They lingered at the entrance of princess’ room. The child did not wake as she was put back to bed and Jon Snow led Catelyn to one of the unused rooms. Ser Balon came with them, but the guard remained outside as the door closed.

Jon Snow put an oil lamp on the sill of barred window. The weak light did little to warm Cat’s soul. The room was cold and dusty and there was no place to sit for him or her. “Bran is doing well. So is Rickon,” he began.

She gave him no answer. _What does he want?_

“Have you ever found what happened to Arya?” he asked finally.

“No.” There was a man almost three years past. They caught him near Raventree Hall poaching. When questioned, he told a wild tale from the time when the Brotherhood without Banners roamed Riverlands, before Thoros of Myr and Ser Beric were killed. Supposedly, the Hound fled to Riverlands after the Battle of Blackwater. That much was true as the folk from Saltpans could confirm to their sorrow. But the rest… The man claimed that the Hound had a child with him for a ransom and that this child was Arya Stark.

_Should I tell him?_ Catelyn wondered briefly. But why? To ease his grief or to torment him as it tormented her? It made no matter. It was all just lies and hollow hope. She kept silent.

“I tried to find her.” Jon Snow’s voice was flat. “Lady Melisandre, Stannis’ priestess looked for her in her fires, but none of the girls she saw were her. I chased the trail of the bride Ramsay Snow had married, but she was just a pretender. I questioned Varys before I took his head. He told me that Arya had fled the Red Keep the day they had taken Lord Eddard captive, but he had never heard of her afterwards.”

Catelyn shivered thinking of Stannis’ witch. She still remembered the shadow at the wall of Lord Renly’s tent, the cold, the blood. Yet, she would seek the Red Woman herself a hundred times if it would bring Arya back.

She looked the man standing in front of her in the eye. Once he had been just her husband’s bastard. Now he was a son of a prince, father of a princess, husband of a queen. A king. There was little left of the boy he had been. It made no difference. She would not hold her tongue, not with him. She remembered how Arya would climb the trees in the godswood and jump into his arms. He would always catch her. He would always find her when she wanted to hide from the world. He would always make her smile, when there were tears running down her face. But when Arya needed him the most, he was not there. “You failed her. Naming some child after her is no atonement.”

“She is my daughter, she is not _some child_.” Jon Snow’s hands bailed in fists. Fire flared behind the ice of his eyes, but Catelyn would not back off. Who was left to be angry at, if not him?

“I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory,” she reminded him of the oath. “I see no golden circle on your head, but I don’t think it matters. You broke every word of that promise,” she spat.

“And I might answer for that to thousands of people of this kingdom. But make no mistake, I no longer care what you think of me.” There would be more warmth in the heart of winter than in his words.

“You should have at least been a man enough to father a son.”

The look he gave her was full of fury. For the briefest moment Catelyn wondered if he ever struck a woman in anger. She thought not, no matter whose seed he was and no matter how much she hated the fact, he was still too much of Ned’s son for that.

“Is that what your daughters were to you?” He asked her coldly, “Failures?”

King or not, it there was a cup of wine or a cask of ale at the hand, she would have flung it to his face. But strangely, all her anger seemed to desert her suddenly. When she addressed him next, her voice was calm. “The queen is dead. Who is her heir? Her daughter or her husband? Who is yours? If you ever marry again and father more children, who will the lords follow? The queen’s daughter, or the king’s son? No woman was allowed to sit the Iron Throne since Rhaenyra. The lords closed their eyes and shut their ears to the truth that Daenerys was a woman too. She had dragons and she claimed the throne by fire a blood, but should you die, do you think they would do the same for a little girl?”

The angry words she expected as an answer never came. _He knows, I am right._ “What will you do?” she demanded to know. Not as a wife asking her husband’s son by another woman, but as a lady of a great house requesting her king.

“I am the princess’ father and the queen’s closest male kin. Before Arya reaches six and ten, there should be no doubt who rules.”

The wick in the oil lamp cracked and the light in the room shifted for a moment as if to mirror her feelings. Catelyn was far from satisfied by his answer. “How can you rule when half of the Red Keep doesn’t even know your face?

The lines of Jon Snow’ brow deepened. “How many witnesses must return from the North, Lady Catelyn, until the South believes that the danger beyond the Wall is real? I can’t leave the Wall for long.”

Despite all her will, Catelyn shivered. The danger beyond the Wall. The dead stirring. The Others. Catelyn had spoken with men who had seen the wights with their own eyes. But no matter what horrors lay beyond the Wall, as long as they stayed there the lords did not have to think about them, they could pretend that nothing was amiss and continue with their lives. 

“Will the queen’s new Hand hold the kingdom together while you are away? I have heard that Lord Davos is a _good man_, but is he a _good Hand_?” _Robert came all this way to see you, to bring you these great honors, you cannot throw them back in his face. _Catelyn could still remember the words she told to Ned. Her husband had been a good man too, but his place was not in King’s Landing. He had known that better than her.

The king remained silent. Catelyn saw he thought about her words. And more words came to her too. She was the last whose advice he would seek, but she had to try. For the sake of Riverlands and the children that remained to her.

“You must-”

“Your Grace!” There was an urgency in Ser Balon’s voice.

“Enter.” Jon Snow allowed him at once.

If there had been a distress in Kingsguard’s voice it was nothing compared to anguish on his face. “Princess Arya is missing.”

In an instant Jon Snow stormed from the room as quick and heedless as a stray arrow. Ser Balon hurried after him. Catelyn would have to run to keep up with their pace, but the king stopped at the end of the corridor. “What happened?” She heard him ask from the door of the princess’ room.

“The princess woke and was restless.” a woman answered. Catelyn assumed that it had to be the princess’ grey-haired tutor. “She claimed she had a bad dream and insisted that she had to see the horses. The child would not calm, so I thought it easiest to grant her the wish before she was put back to bed. I gave her fur cloak and we want to the stables. Ser Edmund came with us. I held the princess’ hand the whole time, but then she run from me suddenly as she is wont to do. I couldn’t stop her. One of the mares had escaped her box, but I never thought the princess could climb on her, I swear. And so quickly, too!”

There was noise and hustle at the stables. The faces of the men ranked from worried to terrified. Ser Edmund looked as if he would be rather walking in the Haunted Forest naked than to face his king. Catelyn, wondered what she would do if any guards at Winterfell lost one of her children. She had got angry with them more than once. None of the Ned’s men could ever stop Bran from climbing and Arya might not have been even six when she sneaked her first horse right from under Hullen’s nose. _That had been different, though_. It had been a day and they were safe within the walls of Winterfell. Catelyn’s daughter did not make it any further than to the castle’s gate. Here it was still night, the snow remained falling and despite all Cat’s efforts, the Riverlands were full of dangers. She could not even think what would happen, if they did not find the princess in good health.

The king had his horse saddled and was riding out in no time. Cat sought her own men and came upon Ser Maron. “Have my horse prepared. I will follow them.”

“Is it wise, my lady? It’s still night and what help could we offer them?”

_It’s not wise_, Catelyn knew, but she had spent too many hours of her life waiting with nothing to do but worry. Almost two years in the cell at the Twins she had nothing but her prayer and patience. She could not live one more moment like that. “We will give them whatever help they will require. No one had forbidden us to come.”

Her captain of guards saw that his word would not sway her. “Let me at least ride with you, my lady.” His face was earnest. He was a good man, a loyal man. And a better horse than her. She gave her content.

The snow was still falling but at least the wind was mild. Had it been a true snow storm, they would not see the trail even if hundred men had been there a moment before them. It was hard to tell with the sky cast and their eyes half blinded by the light of torches, but it seemed to Cat, that they were heading north. The king and his companion were far ahead and only from time to time they glimpsed vague glitter of distant torches. They must have crossed dozen weaving meadows, up and down, before the torches before them stilled.

Ser Balon and the Mormont girl waited at the entrance of the forest where a road cut through the bush of hedges. They were still in saddle and had the king’s horse too, but of Jon Snow there was no sight. “Lady Catelyn, you should not continue. It’s the king’s will.” Even years at court did not help Ser Balon to hide his disapproval with king’s order.

“Why?” No one but she herself heard her question. Catelyn’s voice drowned in a loud howl. So many voices. She had never heard wolf pack half so numerous. There was a break, and then they heard another song. This one was different. It was just one beast, but huge and powerful. Hair on Cat’s neck stood up. As in a dream she jumped from her horse and run to the forest.

They all called after her, but she did not stop. “Don’t follow me, Ser Maron. It’s an order!” She shouted for her own guard, not even turning to see if he was following her at all. Catelyn half walked, half run as quick as deep snow would allow her. Hem of her skirt kept catching to branches and snow clung to it. With only one torch, she could barely see anything, but even blind would be able to follow the trail of man and horse in a freshly fallen snow.

Not even a hundred feet ahead she glimpsed the first pair of wolf’s eyes. Two golden points glittered in the light of her torch and disappeared. Maybe she imagined it and maybe she heard it for true, but Catelyn could swear that all around her the snow crunched softly as many pairs of paws bored into it. Be it madness or bravery she neither stopped nor slowed down. Another hundred feet and she saw the first wolf trail. Other soon joined. The eyes watching her were growing more numerous too, appearing and disappearing as the light of her torch caught them.

The wolf trail began to override the prints of feet and hooves and Cat might have even lost it, but just them she finally found the distant light of another torch. She quickened her pace not minding the sound of tearing fabric as her skirt caught a branch.

She saw the princess’ horse first, it was not moving and inch. And how could it, petrified by fear? There must have been at last thirty wolves around. The king was there too, his torch sticking from the snow. He was kneeling and in his arms he held his daughter tightly. The little princess was still huddled in her furs.

“I wanted to see mother.” Catelyn heard the girl speak as she struggled to escape her father’s embrace. Her hand was outstretched as far as possible trying to touch the wolf standing right in front of them.

This beast was unlike the others. Big, maybe even bigger than Summer, with long legs and long muzzle. A direwolf without a doubt. What was more, Catelyn knew her. Cat may have last seen the wolf last when the beast had been a pup, but somehow Cat knew without a doubt. This was Nymeria, Arya’s direwolf.

As if the she-wolf could feel her look, Nymeria turned and looked at Catelyn. Not for the first time Cat felt that there was just as much magic to direwolves as to dragons. Those big golden eyes were too focused, too knowing. But whatever was in them, she could not understand. Catelyn looked at Jon Snow. She could not even guess what he was thinking, but in the light of torches she could see tears on his face. 

**Author's Note:**

> So this was the last part. If anyone read the whole series you can let me know which part you liked the most, or the least.


End file.
